


Swamp of Sorrows

by SwissArmyKnife



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Backstory, Bathing, Dehumanization, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Lance, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance, Paladin Takashi doesn’t approve of rogue morality, Past Abuse, Team as Family, finding out, monsters & mana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 20:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwissArmyKnife/pseuds/SwissArmyKnife
Summary: Pike gets exposed to acidic ooze, which leads Block (& Keith) to make a few discoveries about their party’s rogue.“We can't leave them like this,” Meklavar said of Valayun and Pike, who’d been laid beside the fire. "Look at how bad those welts are." She came up with a bottle of oil and a cake of soap. "I can smell water nearby. We can get them washed and roll them in a blanket to sleep off the spore. What do you think?""I think it's our only choice," Takashi said.





	Swamp of Sorrows

**Author's Note:**

> So, my dreams have conspired to provide more “Monsters & Mana” content, _which is sorely needed._ Here, Block and the others are actual questing heroes rather than tabletop characters, and since I used their in-game names, I’ve included those below. My half-conscious brain also added Keith, because why not?
>
>> Hunk – Block, human cleric  
> Pidge – Meklavar, dwarvish fighter  
> Shiro – Takashi Shirogane, human paladin  
> Allura – Valayun, elvish ranger  
> Lance – Pike, catfolk rogue  
> Keith – Keife, demi-tiefling sorcerer

Their troubles began while investigating a murder. The perpetrator was a local baron, but to prove it, they needed access to his library. They considered several tactics. Meklavar and Kiefe both advocated for use of force, but Valayun was adamant that would only alienate them from those who’d asked for their help. As for Block, he didn’t really want to resort to violence, but he also knew Baron Markas. The man had the disposition of a viper, and diplomacy would get them nowhere.

Their discussion was beginning to get heated – Kiefe’s pupils were flickering, his answers increasingly biting – when they were interrupted by a puff of displaced air. Out of a smoky plume, Pike strode into their midst, twirling something between his fingers. He tossed it in Block’s direction. He fumbled but caught it. A key lay in his hand.

"Where did you get that?" Meklavar hissed, thumping her ax on the floor.

It wasn't uncommon for Pike to swagger, and he certainly didn't hold back now. Tossing an arm around her, he picked at his tooth with a claw and said, "Where do you think I got it? You said we needed to investigate the library, and now we can. Problem solved!"

Block felt a little faint. "Did you steal this from the baron himself?" He thought of the big man with his knuckles full of rings, each one heavy with authority. Had Pike been caught, the baron could have condemned him with a gesture, and Block didn't like to think of his friend rotting in jail or, worse, nursing an amputated hand.

Pike dismissed his concern with a wave. "You act like I snuck into a dragon's hoard. It was a fat, lazy noble who wouldn't know the business end of mace if you drew him a diagram. Took about three seconds."

"What if he notices?" Meklavar demanded.

"He will eventually, of course, but I figure we have at least a few hours. No time like the present, right?"

There was a beat of silence as everyone considered. Eventually, Kiefe cleared his throat. "I say we do it."

Takashi shook his head. "No. It wouldn't be right. We've been asked to administer justice under the law. If we do that by underhanded means, how are we any better than the baron?”

"Uh, duh. We didn't murder anyone," Pike said, pouting as he often did when someone gave him grief over his tricks and wiles. "I've offered a non-violent solution that won’t risk ruining our reputation. Isn't that what you wanted, oh mighty paladin?"

There were, in fact, real merits to Pike's plan, even if it wasn't exactly above board. Valayun nodded thoughtfully, and Meklavar, though clearly disappointed her axe would not be in play, hummed in agreement. Only Takashi remained unconvinced, his jaw set.

"Takashi," Block said. "It may not be ideal, but Pike has a point. If we don't find any evidence, then no harm done, but if we do, we’ll have proof the baron took a man’s life. It’s win-win scenario."

Takashi read the decisiveness on each face before adjusting the sword on his belt. "If everyone is decided, then fine. I only hope our ends justify our means, regardless of how unscrupulous."

Takashi was glaring at their roguish companion as he said this. Then he ducked into the hallway, his cloak swishing behind him. As the others moved to follow, Block’s caught a glimpse of Pike. His face was cast in shadow, but the emotion seated in his expression was clear enough. It was shame.

* * *

Their quest to bring the baron to justice was a success. Afterward, the grateful citizens celebrated, and the heroes of the day were invited to stay for the revels. Pike was at his finest, flashing his canines at the prettiest barmaids and winking at anyone who so much as tipped him a smile. Block had to admire the way he weaved through the crowds without entanglement. Perhaps it was the feline in him, but Pike preferred a _look-don't-touch_ approach when it came to admiration.

Block had a fascination with his friend’s feline aspect, actually. Catfolk were illusive, their habits and inclinations not well known. Block remembered the first time he’d seen Pike casually leaning against a wall, conversing with a tabby in a language that could only be described as a series of chirps and trills. When he asked about it later, Pike had laughed.

"The nuances are actually more in the front and back end," he said, giving a demonstrative twitch of the ears and coiling his brown tail. “Body language, you know?”

Block had filed the information away. That was one of the best things about traveling with such a diverse group of people; there were always new tidbits to learn about the land of Aurita and those who populated it.

They left the village the following morning. Block, as always, was a bit forlorn to see civilization pass behind them, but, hey, that was the life of a hero, and despite its hardships and dangers, he'd never regretted his decision to leave his village – now restored from the wizard’s curse – and take up with Meklavar and the others. They were true companions, and he believed his deity when she professed it was their destiny to be defenders of the land.

"So devout," Pike teased when Block voiced this.

Wise by now to the fondness underlying Pike's mockery, Block grabbed the rogue by the neck. "I know you like being a hero, my sneaky friend," he chastised. "Besides, isn’t it nice having a team to watch your back?”

For some reason, Pike had gone quiet after that. Block later caught him watching the camp from a low hanging tree, arms around his knees and tail twitching like a metronome. He’d wondered what Pike was thinking, but decided to leave him be for now. Pike would speak when he wanted to speak. And if he didn’t? He wouldn’t. 

As a group, they decided to head for the inn at the edge of the Feldakor Mountains. It was no longer run by the false innkeeper, but it remained a hub for warriors seeking new adventures. Of course, getting there meant they had to cross the Wiebian Swamp again. Block had made a token complaint, but honestly, he was almost used to the place by now. As they passed through the mossy fringes of the first cypress trees, the ground grew spongy beneath their feet. What they didn’t know was that a powerful creature had taken up residence in the swamp, a monstrous ooze whose victims were already numerous enough that the king himself had sent out a contingent to handle things.

Block and his friends ran into it first.

* * *

The air was thick was coils of vapor, burning the lungs and choking speech. Battle cries and occasional screams broke through, but Block could see little. Finally, in desperation, he heaved his staff into the murky fog. A whirlwind manifested, and for a moment the battlefield was clear. Block saw Takashi crouched under a tree, his sword embedded deeply. Not far from him, Meklavar and Kiefe stumbled apart. Had they mistaken one another for foes? Valayun was rubbing her eyes, looking as though she had awoken from a dream. Pike, Block could not see.

From the center of a pool of swamp water, the oozling warbled in rage. It was easily as large as a tree, with twisting limbs that were lipidous with slime. Whenever it snapped its appendages, acidic goop filled the air. Several trees already hissed with it, blackening as the life seeped out of them.

With a mighty lurch, Takashi jerked his weapon free. “Kiefe!" he bellowed, and lightning crackled overhead as the sorcerer called elemental powers to his aide. Kiefe's attack struck the oozling, who shrieked as Meklavar charged, the swampy ground hardening under her transmutation gloves. Following the path she made, Takashi raced forward, his weapon bursting into flames. He made a deep penetrating slash that bore deep into their enemy’s amorphous body. Oozling blood splattered, dissolving everything it touched. It literally gushed from the wound, and the heroes backed up hastily.

The oozling shrieked. " _Ma flek’a Juiblex!_ " it wailed, and with what must have been the last of its strength, it gathered a lungful of air and expelled it into the air around them.

"Spore!" Block bellowed a warning, already forming a ward. He saw Kiefe’s shield flicker to life, Meklavar and Takashi hunched safety behind it. Valayun, perched in a tree for a better vantage, was caught in the open. She clasped her hands over her mouth and nose, but Block knew it was too late. She started to fall, and with a spike of horror, Block realized that she would hit the ground with killing force. Arm outstretched, he bellowed her name –

– and that’s when Pike appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around Valayun in midair and teleporting them both away in a cloud of smoke.

Block heaved a gasping breath. However, his relief was premature. Instead of reappearing on dry land, Pike and Valayun manifested over the pool. They plummeted into the water, sending waves over Block’s feet. There was a cry of rage, and Block realized it was Kiefe. Kiefe, whose pupils had sunk into golden pools as he pointed his finger at their foe and hissed a hellish phrase that blazed outward in a burning aura of power. It incinerated the spore and slammed into the oozling. Its scream of mortal agony was so earsplitting that Block groaned with pain, and then it burst like an overfilled wine sack, blood and slime and other bodily fluids covering everything in a ten-foot radius. From behind his sleeve, Block felt a few drops hit. The fabric of his sleeve sizzled.

A splash. Meklavar, by virtue of her dwarvish background, was the least affected by noxious elements, and it was she who dived into the pool. When she broke the surface, she was heaving Pike along with her, Vala still clutched in his arms. Meklavar swam to shore, where the others were waiting. As she caught her breath, Block examined their stricken comrades.

It was bad. Both Vala and Pike were covered in the goo the oozling had put off from its wounds. It had been diluted with water, but Block could already see livid welts coming up on their skin. They were also unconscious. For a terrible moment, Block feared they’d drowned, but when Takashi pressed their diaphragms, both expelled water. They breathed, but their pale eyelids remained closed.

"What's wrong with them?" Meklavar demanded. Boggy rivulets were still streaking down her face, which was pale with strain.

"It's the spore," Block realized. "That must be why Pike's teleport went wrong."

"Block’s right,” Keife said. “I could try to remove the enchantment but..." He broke off, eyes jerking away. "My magic is better for martial applications than healing."

And he was tired. Block could feel the drag of exhaustion on his own reserves. "We'll just have to wait it out. No doubt they'll wake up on their own. Until then, we’ll just have to keep them safe."

Takashi rubbed his neck as through it pained him. "We could all use a rest. Let's get out of this swamp. Then we can make camp and wait for the spore to wear off."

They were no other options. They _needed_ to rest and recover, but there was no doing it here, surrounded by soupy pools of polluted water and unknown enemies. "I'll take Pike," Block volunteered.

They had to pry Pike's hands free from their locked position. He'd literally born his claws into the flesh of his own arms, he’d been so determined to hold onto Valayun. Block winced as red beads of blood welled and then ran down his arms from the ten self-inflicted punctures. Afterward, he positioned Pike’s arms around his neck and hefted his friend onto his back.

Takashi held Valayun against his chest, and together the weary party made their way out of the swamp at a slow but dogged pace.

* * *

They made camp in a glade of oaks. It was an excellent spot, shielded from the wind by a steep drop-off and surrounded by thick trees with well-known shapes and voices. A clear patch of sky was visible overhead. Meklavar had a blaze going almost immediately, and the chill in their bones finally began to ease.

“We can't leave them like this,” Meklavar said of Valayun and Pike, who’d been laid beside the fire. "Look at how bad those welts are. It'll be ten times worse if we leave them in their damp clothes. We need to get them dry."

Block rubbed his fingers together, digging deep, but the most he felt was a fizzle. "I can't do it with a spell," he murmured, disappointed with his own stamina. Pity coiled inside him as he looked at their befouled friends. "I don't have anything left, and if I close my eyes to meditate on it, I'm going to fall asleep. My concentration’s shot."

"We'll have to do it the old fashioned way," said Meklavar, digging in her pack. She came up with a bottle of oil and a cake of soap. "I can smell water nearby. We can get them washed and roll them in a blanket to sleep off the spore. What do you think?"

"I think it's our only choice," Takashi said. He surveyed the clearing. "I'm going to help Meklavar get Vala to the water, and then I'll set things up here. Kiefe, you help Block with Pike."

Block expected Keife to protest, but he only said, "Fine," and went to gather supplies. He also retrieved their kit of herbs and bandages, which was good thinking. Block wanted to make a salve for the rash and dress Pike’s puncture wounds while they were at it. "You need me to carry him?”

It _had_ been a long march out of the swamp. Block pulled Pike onto his knees and helped Kiefe hoist him into position. "You sure you’ve got him?"

Kiefe hitched the unconscious rogue higher. "It’s fine. He's a featherweight."

Pike was built like a rangy tomcat. As he didn't depend on strength or physical prowess in battle, it hardly mattered. In and out like a shadow; that was Pike's way, but Block would still have liked to put some meat on those bones. At least it made their walk to the stream a simple matter. The stream itself was a brisk tributary, with clean, fast moving water that whispered merrily as it passed through reed and over stone. After a moment’s search, Block found a sandy spot where the bank cut inland, forming a deep pool. He called Kiefe. "Perfect, right?"

Keife grunted, letting Pike down at the edge of the water. "Should do," he agreed.

The water was as frigid as only streams feeding off mountain runoff could be, but Block found the tiniest drop of remaining magic. Afterward, the pool was comfortably tepid. He rolled up his sleeves. "Boots first, I think," he said, taking his friend’s foot into his lap.

After loosened the laces, Block wiggled the leather and gave it a tug. It eased over Pike's heel only with difficulty, and as Block slid his hand inside to guide it out, his eyebrows flew into his bangs. "Oh," he said, drawing up Pike’s foot for a closer look. It was lightly furred on top and had a slightly inhuman shape, as though he rested most of his weight on his toes. The ball of his foot was covered with what could only be described as a pad, as were each of his toes. "Oh!" Block said again, unable to keep from running his fingers over them. They were elongated, of course, but still discernably pawlike. He was entranced.

Kiefe, by contrast, appeared troubled. "No wonder he complains about his boots. They aren't shaped for feet like that. It must be painful."

Block rubbed the arch of Pike's foot with his thumb, imaging the ache of being forced into a position they were never designed to assume. "Why do you suppose he wears them, then? Most beastfolk I know go without."

"Maybe he doesn't want to stand out," Kiefe suggested, and there was a quality to his voice that allowed Block to follow his train of thought. Not all races were equally respected in Aurita. Some catfolk were seen as noble, especially those who resembled powerful animals such as lions and tigers, but most had a reputation for poverty, backwardness, and thievery. Pike couldn't hide every feline characteristic he possessed, at least not without sacrificing his balance and heightened senses, but it seemed he'd made a compromise when it came to footwear.

Kiefe knew a thing or two about being ostracized for one’s heritage. At either side of his head, barely defined beneath pale skin, it was just possible to observe bony protrusions that would have been horns if his mother’s heritage taken a firmer hold. Likewise, his stormy eyes had a tendency to lose definition, flashing gold when his reign on his power slipped. Block was embarrassed to say that he himself had once had serious misgivings about Keife. That had passed, but the reminder was there, and Block didn’t wonder that Keife looked on Pike’s hidden feet with empathy.

“Let’s get this moving,” he said.

Block made quick work of Pike's other boot and belt. His clothing, however, was fused to him, and they would have to loosen it before removal. Block began to ease Pike into the water when a glint off of metal caught his eye. "Oh, wait," he said, snatching the gold bangle Pike wore before it hit the water. He pulled it free and tossed it on the bank. Afterward, they poured oil onto Pike’s stiffened hair, working it through the roots and around the base of his ears. This close, Block could see the fine hairs that lined them, pitifully clumped together. With more gentleness than Block would have given him credit for, Keife massaged in the oil until they had most of the ooze loosened from Pike’s scalp and face. The foul stuff had seeped down his neck as well, but, fortunately, the water had done its work and they were able to start disrobing him.

Block chuckled. "Poor Pike. If he were awake, he'd hate this. He's private about grooming, you know? I don't think he's ever washed up with the rest of us."

Kiefe raised an eyebrow at that, which Block could understand. Pike had a tendency toward vanity. He preened when complimented, complained about losing his beauty sleep, and was generally fussy about his appearance. However, though Pike remained one of the tidiest rogues Block had ever met, whatever he did to remain so happened outside of public view. It made a pang of regret go through him; he didn't like invading his friend's privacy. However, they couldn’t allow Pike to remain like this, certainly not for several more hours. They would just have to hope that Pike forgave them with only a modicum of sulking.

The scarf was the first to go. It was tucked firmly into Pike's cape and required a bit of tugging before Block was able to detach it, tsking as he did so. The scarf was ragged, parchment thin with an uneven hemline. Until now, Block had assumed Pike wore the tatty fabric as a nod to his dramatic style. Now, as he held it in his hands, he reconsidered. Although Pike took pains to fold it in such a way that it looked dashing instead of pathetic, the article of clothing was not only in poor condition, it was past mending. Why didn't Pike replace it?

He turned to raise this query with Kiefe, only to find him fixated on Pike’s neck. Concerned, Block asked, "Did that oozy stuff get down his shirt, too?"

Kiefe's fingers moved almost delicately against Pike’s skin. He asked, "Did you know?"

Puzzled, Block gazed at the juncture between Pike's neck and shoulder, and his breath caught. With unsteady hands, he touched the sides of Pike's throat. Knotty scar tissue circled it. At one time or another, Pike had worn a collar, and a fairly heavy one at that. "I don't understand," he said. His voice was reedy, thin. "He told me he’d never been imprisoned."

"Maybe this didn't come from prison," Kiefe said. "Did you really not know?"

"No," Block said, feeling numb. He still couldn't get over how deep the scaring was. It spoke of a long sojourn with that collar, and pain. ' _What happened to you, Pike?_ ' he wondered. ' _Was it a cursed object, a punishment? Where did you pick up such a thing, why did you wear it, and how long did it hurt you before you were free of it?'_ And why had he kept this from Block, the party healer? Scars like that had a way of hurting for a long time. He could have helped. _'What secrets are you hiding, my friend?'_

An ill-fated question, as it turned out.

They removed Pike’s cape, which was soiled but mostly intact. As they did so, something fell out of an inner pocket, a square of parchment bound in a waterproof skin. A tingle zipped through Block’s fingers as he handled it, provoking a frown. Magical items weren’t rare, but... He turned it over in his hand. "This feels vile."

Kiefe touched it, eyes fluttering shut. Then they snapped open. A spark burst into life in the grass beside him, sending up a wisp of smoke. Kiefe let out a carefully controlled breath. "It’s enchanted," he said simply. "Just put it aside. It's none of our business."

Block did as he was told and helped Keife draw Pike’s tunic over his lolling head. That was when they discovered the silvery lines on his back and shoulders, crisscrossing his belly. Block closed his eyes and heard Pike’s slightly hysterical laughter bouncing around a clearing as he teased them from out of sight. These scars didn’t match that happy-go-lucky personality at all. He would’ve understood if he’d caught a glimpse of them on Kiefe as he tucked in his tunic. He would’ve been sympathetic if he noticed them on Takashi's neck as he pulled his armor over his head. But buoyant, boisterous Pike? Block’s mind couldn’t accept it.

"Oh, buddy," he said. His fingers shifted without thought, stroking Pike’s hair. "Sweet Eldath, goddess of peace. I'm so sorry."

Kiefe didn't speak, but the storm that was gathering in his eyes was acute, roiling. Clouds overhead were beginning to mass, responding to his inner turmoil, and Block grabbed his arm. "Kiefe! Calm down. We're camped next to a streambed."

The reminder made it through the thickness of Kiefe's anger. For a few moments, he breathed through his nose, fighting for control, but eventually the sky cleared. Blue peeked through, and Block took that to mean the worst was over. Nervous, he evaluated his fellow magic user, trying to determine how close to the edge he might be. With their helpless friend between them, he wanted to take no chances. "Are you alright?”

Kiefe opened his eyes. There were still traces of anger, but the violet color was clear and distinct. "No, I'm not okay," he said, but despite that, he picked up the floating cake of soap and resumed tending Pike with as much care as before. With a wary eye on him, Block did the same.

As Block washed away mud, sweat, and the remaining traces of ooze, his mind was sunk in thought, creating scenarios that would account for the scars. The prevalent one, the one that was true regardless of context, was that Pike had suffered lasting harm at the hands of others. No, not mere harm. Someone had brutalized him enough to map his skin like frost on winter-hardened ground. Had it been shame that made him hide them? The shame of the convicted, perhaps? Or the shame of the abused?

He and Kiefe did not speak. Not as they tipped Pike's head back to rinse his hair, not as they rested him on the bank, wrapped in Block’s clock, and not as they applied salve and cleaned and bandaged his wounds. They were almost back to camp before Kiefe broke the silence. "We have to tell Takashi."

Block had never been above rooting through his companions’ packs, heckling them with invasive questions, or even, on one notable occasion, reading Meklavar's dairy. However, as he adjusted Pike in his arms, he felt guilty about their unintentional breach of trust. Should they worsen it by spreading their ill-gotten knowledge?

Kiefe must have sensed his uncertainty, because he said, "Even if we wanted to, we can’t keep this a secret. If we act carelessly, all of us could be put in danger, Pike included."

Block dropped his chin. "We don't know that's the case. We've been traveling together for months, and there's been no sign of trouble. Takashi has the leviathan demon, Allura her lost people. Meklavar has her clan and its feuds, and saving my village nearly got us killed when Dakin became involved. Pike is practically the only member of this group who _hasn’t_ put us in harm’s way."

"So we believed," Kiefe said. “However, there are things we didn't know, aren't there?"

That could hardly be denied. What's more, it made Block sad to think of Pike skulking off to wash and dress, fearful of discovery. Would it not be better for everything to be freely known? _'And what if the story he tells is one of more than thievery? What if there are crimes in his past that Takashi – that all of us – can’t overlook? And what of that enchanted parchment?'_

Takashi met them at the tree line. He rested his hand on Kiefe's shoulder. "I saw the sky earlier. When it cleared, I decided you must be okay, but I was worried. Is everything alright?"

Kiefe and Block gazed at one another, a conversation of silences. Finally, Block rested his chin on the top of Pike's head and exhaled. "You better come inside the tent with us. There's something you ought to see."

Afterward, Takashi sat back on his calves and stared into the middle distance. His face, usually open, was unreadable. "I would not have thought –" he began, then stopped himself. "No, I should have considered it. He was just so _Pike_ , I didn't think." He answered their questioning expressions. "For years, there’ve been rumors of raids in places where less desirable beastfolk make their homes. Vermin control, it’s called." He gazed at Pike, who was curled on his side with his tail laying across his legs, unnaturally still where usually it was in constant, twitching motion. "I've heard they take captives."

A knot formed in Block's throat. It was an evil so great he could hardly countenance it. He knew it happened, of course; trafficking thrived beneath the surface of the civilized world, often unseen, sometimes suppressed, but never absent. That Pike could have been victimized by such a system was too terrible a thought for him to accept. "You don't think the marks come from an arrest, then?" He asked because, of all of them, Takashi would be the most likely to know. Not that the paladin relished that more bitter side of justice, but he had more exposure to it than most.

Takashi shook his head, which was answer enough. "For now, let’s focus on getting Pike warm and dry, and when he wakes up, we can decide what to do next. Do you think it’ll be soon?"

Block placed his hand on Pike's forehead, trying to get a sense of how much the spore was still affecting him. "I think several more hours at least."

Takashi nodded. "Vala has more resistance. She's already shifting around. I'm going to take this salve to her and speak with Meklavar. Join me when you've got Pike dressed."

Block reached for the waded bundle of clothing, but Kiefe stopped him. "I'm not putting him back in that ragged gear," he said. "Wait here. I have an extra tunic."

* * *

Pike awoke alone in the dimness of the tent. At first he was disoriented, the spore still weighing heavily on his mind and body, but eventually he was able to sit upright. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then reached instinctively for the bangle on his wrist. Instead he touched bare skin.

Painful alertness seized him, and Pike searched frantically through the bedroll. How had it slipped off? That had never happened before! Then he noticed the pile beside him. A belt. His boots. Neatly folded clothing. The missing bracelet gleamed among them. Pike snatched it, jamming it over his knuckles. Afterward he held it against his chest, heart pounding as it slowly returned to normal.

He examined his surroundings. Block’s cloak was piled over his knees. He gripped the tunic he was wearing, yanking it up. Not only was it thicker and warmer than anything he owned, it was also black in color. And the fact that he was _wearing_ it despite having no recollection of changing himself, coupled with the fact that his bracelet had been removed, all of it meant that someone else had undressed him. Someone else – 

His hand flew to his throat. It was bare. Everything was bare. There was no hiding now.

Pike let out a moan of frustration, then immediately stuck his knuckles in his mouth. He had to leave without alerting anyone, now, before the consequences caught up to him. The tent flap whispered as he slipped past, and then he dashed toward the forest, dusky and shadowed and oh-so-concealing in the dark of evening. He leapt to embrace them – 

And slammed directly into Block, cleric of Eldath.

"Pike!" Block’s hands flew to his shoulders.

Pike twisted to free himself, but Block held on with merciless natural strength. As a result, Pike did the only thing he could think of. He thrust his elbow into Block’s ribs. It was a successful gambit, and Pike made it another three strides before the debris underfoot put him in mind of his bare feet, and more importantly, his uncovered shoulders. His cape! He needed his cape.

"Pike!" The shout came from Kiefe. He locked eyes with Pike and raised his hands. "Just calm down."

Pike head shook. Calm would help nothing. He glanced over his shoulder at the woods. In there, no one would find him, not even with a tracking spell. He touched his shoulder. But his cape…

Kiefe cut through his indecision. "Are you looking for this?"

Pike's neck jerked so quickly his muscles protested. He saw a square waterproofed parchment, his most valuable possession, held in the hand of another. A yelp tore from his throat, a cry of utter terror. Giving up all hope of recovery, he bolted. His only hope was to get away before they realized what they had.

_"STOP!"_

The word, hurled from Kiefe's mouth, struck Pike with force. Instantly every muscle in his body seized, and he fell face-first to the ground. The magical binding loosened right away, but he was already defeated. A sob tore from Pike's throat.

* * *

It started when Block heard noises and went to investigate. He’d just rounded the corner when Pike barreled into his arms. His pupils were blown as wide as buttons, and every hair on his body was sticking up as though he’d been struck by lightning. Block's first reaction was to explain. "Pike!" he said, but the terrified rogue thrust an elbow into his diaphragm and sprinted for the forest.

That was when Kiefe appeared, holding that damned square of parchment. At first, that got Pike's attention, but then it sent him into such a paroxysm of panic that Block feared he was about to have his last sighting of Pike ever. However, before Pike could reach the trees, Kiefe bellowed, _"STOP!"_

That was it, just one word. It was the same word Block himself would have shouted, and yet that one word sent Pike crashing into the dirt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. For a moment, he huddled there, trembling so violently that Block could see it from where he stood. Then, slowly, Pike pushed himself onto his forearms, curled inward, and began to weep.

Block had rarely heard such wretched sounds, certainly not from a grown person. He turned to Kiefe, who appeared equally stunned. The parchment in his hand was faintly glowing, which made things clear enough. There was a powerful enchantment afoot, something binding and absolute.

Takashi appeared with the others, but it was Valayun who went to Pike. She’d only recently woken herself; nonetheless, she sank to her knees beside him. He jerked, but Vala wasn't human. Her slender limbs were deceptively strong, and she folded him into an irresistible embrace. "Pike," she murmured. "Please listen. You and I were affected by spores while fighting the oozling. We fell into a pool contaminated with its slime. Do you feel the pain it caused? We were in distress, and our friends came to our aide. Kiefe and Block bathed you, and in the course of that, they made certain discoveries. They did not mean to invade your privacy. They were trying to help."

"I'm sorry," Block spoke up, desperate for Pike to hear him. "I'm so sorry, buddy."

Vala began to stoke Pike's hair. "We all know what they found, but you need not be afraid. You're safe."

"No," Pike said. His shivering increased in severity. "My papers –"

"You _are_ safe," Valayun assured him. "And Kiefe is going to give you back your papers. Aren't you, Kiefe?"

Kiefe had been caught in the trance created by Valayun's voice, but at the crispness of her command, he shook it off. "Of course." He knelt before Pike. "Take it."

Pike snatched the parchment, clutched it to him. For the first time since he emerged from the tent, the feral light left his eyes. _Pike_ was with them again. "I have to leave,” he said, holding the paper closer. "They could find me. I have to go now."

"There is a perimeter around this camp," Valayun spoke soothingly. "The others set one up several hours ago. The safest place you can be right now is here."

"You don't understand," Pike said.

Takashi spoke for the first time. "That’s why you need to explain it to us." He stepped nearer, not enough to crowd but close enough to make his presence felt. "Pike, please trust us."

Something in his plea must have had an effect, because Pike lifted his head. He held out a hand in a silent request to be helped up. "Alright,” he said. “Alright.”

* * *

They guided him to the firepit. He walked like a newborn foal, like his feet were tender. As he stretched them out, Block’s eyes were drawn once more to their long, unusual arch, but just as quickly he turned away. Somehow, it made him feel like a voyeur. To distract himself, he scrapped out a serving of porridge from their cooking pot and offered it to Pike. "Magical sleep takes a lot out of a person. You should eat."

A subtle flinch was his only clue something was wrong. On another day, he would never have seen it. It would have been locked under the same control that drove Pike to wear boots that didn't fit his feet, but Pike wasn't functioning at full capacity. His walls, so effortless that none of them had known they were present, were lying in rubble. So when the bowl with its steaming contents came under his nose, he flinched.

"Do you not like porridge, Pike?" Vala asked him.

Meklavar, astute as always, was the first to snap the pieces together. Her expression clouded. "Felines are carnivores,” she said. “Exclusively."

And suddenly it all made sense. The way Pike slunk around the taverns they visited, preferring to poke into everyone’s business, pester the bards, and flirt with the barmaids rather than sit down to a meal with them. The way he picked at rations, and even turned his nose up at pastries from their everlasting pot. Block often prepared food without meat in it; Vala preferred an all-vegetable diet, and he enjoyed accommodating her. Pike had never mentioned it. He'd been traveling with them for months, more than half a year. How had Block not known?

"Oh, buddy," he murmured, setting the bowl down. "Why didn't you say?"

Kiefe got up with a snarl of anger, stalking off into the forest without a word. The fire flickered, eating into the wood and casting blankets of warmth on the group. Above, the stars were stark and white, and Block was grateful for the huddle of bodies, the press of Meklavar's shoulder. On his other side was Pike, and he relished that contact, too. Without thinking, he pressed his hand over the rogue’s knee. Pike offered a weary smile. It gave Block hope. Feeble as that smile had been, it held an echo of his friend in it. It was something to hold on to as they treaded these unknown waters.

Kiefe returned. In one hand he held a squirrel, already skinned and gutted. He squatted down and reached for the stick they’d been using to stir the fire. The carcass was speared with efficiency, and when Valayun winced, Kiefe snapped at her. "This is about need, not preference. So get over it."

It was harsh, too harsh, and Takashi shot Kiefe a look, but no one made a fuss over trifles tonight. The meat was soon sizzling, sending up an aroma that couldn't fail to be comforting, and the tension in the group visibly dropped.

"Here," Kiefe said once the meal was ready. He thrust it into Pike's hands. "Eat."

Pike took it. His eyes glazed, and Block was reminded of the power that something as simple as food could have. Pike rotated the stick between his fingers. He whispered, "Thanks, Keife."

As though by silent agreement, they waited until Pike had eaten his meal. Only when it was gone, his fingers licked clean, did Valayun say what they were all thinking. "Pike, I understand that you may not wish to tell us, but if you're willing, I would like to hear more about your life before our quest to defeat Dakin. I don't believe I have ever asked you."

At first, Block wasn't sure Pike would answer. He huddled with his tail wrapped around his ankles, ears pushed so far back they almost disappeared. He was on edge, but there was also resignation. It was his mouth, Block reasoned. His mouth looked ready to speak. "I don't usually talk about it,” he finally admitted.

They leaned nearer, waiting.

Pike looked at his hands. "My village was raided when I was a kid. We lived by the Amber Sea. It was hard to access, and that made us feel safe. It was naive. A party of men came at night. They burned everything, killed indiscriminately. I was trying to reach the forest when I was caught in a net."

Block could feel the heat of the fire in Pike's words, smell the blood. He could also see a tiny Pike, tangled and terrified, easy prey to the men who had killed everyone he knew, everyone he loved.

"They could have killed me with one sword thrust,” Pike continued, "but I was young. I had value, even though I didn’t know it yet. One of the men picked me up and put me in a cage in the back of a wagon. For days, all I saw were glimpses of the sky. And the man who spared me. He came sometimes. He was my first teacher."

He didn't say what kind, but Block could imagine.

"After a long time, we reached a city. I was weak, but they cleaned me up and sold me. To a lord, actually, as a gift for his son, who was only a few years older than I was. Not as a playmate, though. Not even as a slave. As a pet."

Meklavar made a noise, low in her throat. It was said that dwarves were fiercely protective of their own; that they forgave only rarely, and never forgot. Right now Block could see the murder in her eyes, her desire to avenge their friend. For his part, Block could hardly imagine looking at Pike with his sense of humor and his bright mind and seeing an animal.

Pike rubbed his neck, his scars. "I was with them for four years. The boy’s name was Richard, and he wasn't so bad. He would pull my tail and pinch me, blame me for things that were broken. The sort of thing any kid does, I guess. The adults were worse. They liked to pick me up, stoke me. I'd cry, but they just thought it was ‘cute.’ I learned what they wanted. No squirming, hissing, or biting. Just…sit quietly and let myself be held. They liked it best when I was affectionate. If I would purr, or nuzzle, they would..." He buried his face in his hands.

It was too much. Overcome, Block swallowed his friend in his arms, and Pike allowed Block to comfort him. For a while they just rocked. Eventually they drew apart, and Block squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry."

Pike said, "It was a long time ago."

"Not so long," Meklavar murmured.

"Maybe, but it feels like another lifetime."

"Is that where you got the scars?"

"Most are from when I got older. Richard was ready to begin page training, so they sold me. That's what the parchment is." He touched his tunic, where he'd secreted it away. "It's a bill of sale. I think you saw what it's able to do. The lord who owned me passed it on to my new masters, and so I belonged to them."

"Who was it? Another noble?"

"Oh, no," Pike said. His eyes tracked the darkness beyond the campfire. "It was a kind of zoo."

A beat of nothing, and then voices erupted. Everyone seemed to be talking. A crack of thunder tore through the sky overhead, and a wind like a razor's edge cut through them like a knife. Takashi was the one who put a stop to it. "Everyone, quiet!" He commanded. His voice, tinged with Command, snapped every mouth shut in an instant. Grey eyes met each of theirs in turn, before finally cutting to the left. "Kiefe! Reign it in."

Slowly, ever so slowly, the wind died down. Pike, who had his arms around himself, shivered in the coolness of the air, but seemed mostly unaffected. "I'm sorry,” he said.

" _Don't_ say sorry," Kiefe snapped, but Takashi gripped his arm tightly before he could say any more.

"I wasn’t there long," Pike said. "There was an opportunity to escape, and I took it. After that, I worked the streets, learning to pickpocket. I wasn't good at it at first. I got caught several times, and a lot of the scars are from that. But need is a powerful motivator." He looked at Takashi. "I know you don’t approve of stealing. I know it plays into the worst stereotypes about my people, but it kept me alive.” His gaze was almost desperate for understanding, for approval.

They all looked at Takashi, knowing that this was something only he could address. After all, he was the one who’d most often condemned Pike’s methods. He took the time to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Pike, sometimes I have a hard time seeing in shades of gray. I don’t make excuses for this. It’s wrong of me. I certainly have enough experience to know the value of diversity. _We_ are proof of that. Six paladins couldn’t have defeated Dakin. It wasn’t a paladin who brought the Baron to justice, and a paladin didn’t take Valayun out of midair and keep her from serious harm in the swamp."

Valayun touched his arm. "You saved my life and put your own at risk. I’m indebted to you for that."

Pike offered a smile. "We look pretty bad for having been saved."

She pressed her hand to his cheek. “It was the act of a hero. I won’t forget, and I won’t let you minimize it either, not even with that charm of yours."

Knowing better than to argue, Pike picked up his story. “I lived off what I could pilfer for a while. The problem was, I hadn't really escaped. I didn't know it at first, but there was a trace on me. More than once, I was nearly captured, but each time I weaseled my way out. By that point, though, I realized I needed a way to hide from magic."

"The bracelet," Block said.

Pike touched it. "I got it from an enchanter in Olkari. The price was... _high_. I did some things, things I hope to never do again. But I was desperate. Afterward, when I had the bracelet, no one could track me. I haven't taken it off in years. That's why we’re not safe now. I don't know if anyone would still come, not after so long, but it is _possible_."

"Pike," Takashi broke in. His voice was calm, even. "You're not a child pickpocketing on the street anymore. You're a warrior. Plus you have the sword of a paladin, the axe of a dwarf, the bow of a ranger, and the magic of a cleric and a sorcerer to defend you. Even if someone comes, they wouldn’t touch you."

All around the fire, a unity of purpose could be tangibly felt. Pike looked at them each in turn, and his ears, low and limp at the sides of his head, perked up for the first time that night. "You're right," he said. "Any slaver would have to be a fool to get near you guys." Then he winked, and Block had never in his life been so happy to see that roguish trademark. Without realizing it, he went for another hug. Somewhere from the folds of his cloak came Pike’s muffled response. “Block, I can't breathe."

Block draw back, but he kept his hands on Pike's shoulders. "You _are_ a hero," he said. "And _I’m_ your friend. I hope you know that."

Pike swallowed. His eyes shone. "Thanks, buddy.”

"We are all your friends, Pike," Vala said. "I'm sorry for what you’ve suffered, and I wish I could have spared you. I'm certain we all do."

Pike looked at each of them. "Everyone has things they carry. Don't we?"

Didn't they? The paladin who'd lost his master to a demon and was even now trying to put him to rest with honor. A dwarf far from her homeland, searching for what was lost. The orphan half-breed whose bloodline made society see him as an outcast. An elf who’d lost her people. And him, the farm boy pressed into a destiny of danger and adventure, a destiny that had cost him much: his mother's cooking, his grandfather's final days, the bakery he would never own. They gazed at one another around the fire. "Perhaps we do," Valayun said.

Pike sank heavily against Block. He looked for all the world as though he could have fallen asleep. "Then let’s let the past fall into the past," he said, speaking for them all. "The present is nicer. And the future?” He cracked open an eye and offered Block one more wink. “I think I'm going to like that, too."

**Author's Note:**

> Every once in a while, my brain malfunctions and I end up writing an entire story in one sitting, usually into the wee hours of the morning. This story was one of those all-nighters-from-nowhere. Not a lot of planning went into it. I didn’t dwell on decisions, like Keith’s race/class or Pike’s backstory. It just came out, quick and compulsive. Still, I really had fun despite the recklessness trajectory, and I hope you enjoyed this spontaneous, alternate universe, team-bonding romp!


End file.
